Shouting against golden walls

"Remember these words my friend: Noone cares. And when I say to you noone I mean noone. One day you might be starving, thirsty, on the street; nobody will bother to turn their heads. We are alone. But not just us, everyone even them the high and mighty who will ignore and mock you. If you want things done you will have to do them yourself. The hard way. Wear a shining armor, grab a singing sword and get on the raging battlfield screaming and yelling, siezing the day, siezing and conquering like warriors that bards sing of in their songs. And in the end when you are lying bleeding n the dirt and that's only when the eyes of the world will be upon you. But dear Patroclus, lest we forget, in a world of earth and fire, of sea, water and wind, we only live to become a mere part of."

Our truth

I have a part in everything
Every day I am  called to fight for what is right, for what is just.
For all evil men need, is good men doing nothing.
We all have a part in everything
And our part in this play is to smash the usurpers
To smash them hard.

The machine has only but a few concerns:
Feasting on the sweat of our brow
Sending our brothers to fight their wars for them
Doing everything in their power to keep us down

But all we need is a fighting chance
And he is giving it to us.
That fat sleazy pedophile thinks we are kidding
He stands on his porch all high and mighty and shouts in his devilish tongue:
"Quem vultis dimittam vobis?"

And we scream with all our might
"Barabbas!" "Barabbas!"
We scream until we have no voice left in our lungs 
Until our throats bleed and our eyes turn red

Oh, I can see the tyrant's face
Looking with regret at the poor madman he sentenced to death
Then with disappointment at the hero he is releasing to us
 
Oh! mighty savior! Your name is meant to echo through eternity!

Hope leaves

Last night woke up to a fiery nightmare:
I was living inside a concrete cage,
Forcing myself to wake up every morning;
Forcing myself to fall sleep every night.
There was nothing else but the screen
Talking to the screen,
Learning from the screen,
Loving through the screen.
Sometimes it was so small it could fit in your palm.
Sometimes it made you feel lilliputian.
But always there, like a loyal servant.

I remember standing on the edge of my cage
To see hundreds of others:
Countless piles of concrete boxes,
With countless lilliputian men living in them.

That was when I closed my eyes
Trying to imagine how would another world feel like:

I tried to think of myself in front of the wild ocean,
Breathing upon me,
Allowing its air to fill my lungs;

Inside a calm forest
Feeling the sun caressing my skin
Blessing me with its warmth;

Then, in a prairie, so serene
That the beating heart in my chest
And the streaming tears running on my chicks
Were in perfect harmony with the earth's pulse.

My eyes were still soaking wet when I came to my senses
Of the painful vision
Of a man's needs.

The sound of violence

Certainly they exist.
Although it is a matter of perspective.
One man's hero might as well be another man's demon.
But they do exist.
They are out there, waiting, inspiring,
Sprouting out of everyday's hardships.

But who do we call a hero?
Someone who managed to live his life prosperous
Raising healthy children
And ending up dying content
In his old age
In his sleep?

No.

A hero must have embraced pain
Dragged on the streets
Beaten to death,
And torn apart.
That's the way one earns this title:
Through obliteration.

But we need them.
Alas, the world wants them;
With a desire so intense
That is constantly creating them.

Tunnel fright

Them? What about them?
They will keep using their common sense.
Common, as in 'commoner' or 'plebeian'.
The genius of the crowd, as that dirty old man once said.
Their primer feeling is hatred

I never got to understand them you know.
How come one human being
Be stand in front of  the uknown
And in front of that magnificent emotion
Of adapting
Of evolving
And finally ending up choosing rejection.

Those individuals must be truly mislead
To believe that there is not more than reaches the eye
To believe that our essence and of that everything that surround us is worthless.

Even if our gods and all of our hopes are scientific
Yet here we are
Loving and living
To the tunes of the universal strings
And through the transcending energy of the stars.

La sera prima

  ''Just take a look at what they've done... Alexander was poisoned; Socrates has killed himself; Hercules ascended to his people in the sky... And us? We are left behind, alone. And in time we've learned to cope with the endless hate and envy of those not blessed! Don't fool yourself, they would kill us if they could. They would push their knives on us full of fury and treason. Oh! Brutus... We and our divine obsession!''

Sunt lacrimae rerum

In this sea of doubt and turmoil,
Of circulating storms and mischief,
I found myself on a discarded part of Eden,
Where the winds stop blowing
and the waves of sadness are getting drowned in themselves;
Where the confusion and anxiety of existance ends painlessly and peacefully.
There the Creator was resting,
Forcing himself in an unending slumber,
Leaving us  unfinished:
Too young for wisdom
Too old for bliss.

Is that why although we long for happiness,
We are letting go?
Even though all you need to fill one's heart
Is the sun, the ocean and a journey.

A touch of silver

Since my first morning on this humble rock
I was inherited with some  kind of a tedency
A longing, to touch the sky,
To end up among the constellations.

How hard it can be to tell what's right and what's not...

The devil won't come on a flaming chariot
With shadow steeds pulling it,
Nor will rise from the depth of the ocean
Swallowing islands.

He is a silent voice in one's head,
Telling him to look away,
He is an act of usurpation,
An act of jealousy
An act of selfishness

So, how can the hero be an angel,
Spreading his wings all over us;
With blinding light driving the fiend away?
Or a demigod,
Slicing the leviathan in one hit,
Leading the princess to his kingdom?

No heaven; Know heaven

"I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude"

Since I was down again last night
I thought that some crowd might cheer me up
So I took a long shot and went to the cinema
And watched a new mainstream film

I couldn't help it but realize
That as individuals
We tend to empathize with the villain
Rather than the hero

Made by an unknown and anonymous creator
Left in darkness
Alone
To find a sense of purpose

And turn into suicidal war maniacs
Since the savior's ethics are unattainable
Out of reach
Leading us to perish

Incomplete
Desperate
And in solitude

T̶o̶r̶n̶ Born

It's been since the world began that man

Tended to worship and fear the one that was

Greater in size and beyond in perception

Than his tiny body and simple mind and 

In times of fear and weakness turned into

Them for sign that never came or a sign

Ιnvented. In that great forces, to whom

Once a great king offered his daughter

To gain their favor for a safe travel,

He has once again turned to bless him

With their sanity not to aim his blade

To his chest but to relieve himself from loss.

His only company is himself and the waves,

and the clouds above his head:

"The winds and waves are against again today
As they always are for the blasphemers
And to the weak who beg for shelter.
The winds the waves are the tutor and the guide
For them lost and sad and desperate
Forcing them to hearken to the sound of freedom.
The winds and waves and I are having
Everyday the most joyful and sorrowful
Conversations; The truth of living meets
The pain of feeling. The sea speaks to me
Through the tide trying to get me
Into my senses to discover
Myself once more, once and for all.
The ocean striking itself and the ship
Produces the finest voice which reaches
The depths of my soul;
Consulting and scolding me
For abandoning my heart
In a barless prison.
Disobeying the ancient one
I take her letter out of my pocket
And read it once again
And tears fill my eyes
As I read the last line:
'Adieu, mon amour et mon ami'
Wild thoughts again cross my mind
To use the sea as the mean
To be together once more.
If I close my eyes and feel the breeze
touching my neck a sensation comes to me
Of her breath and a sound in my mind
Of the words she spoke
Of her shattered dreams.
Oh wind and wave, how I could have known
What great companions you can be
In these time of sorrow
Whom I tossed upon myself!
Oh wind and wave, how I could have known
That in calmness and in turmoil
You sprout a great wisdom
Born since time itself made you
Self-aware?
 Oh wind and wave, how I could have known
 You can feel my pain
Of eternal internal struggle
In which you are also bound

We called it ''Sin''

The beast rose proud from the depth of sea,

Mighty and furious and from its chains free,

Making its way to us with full force

Walking fast on our heart's pulse

Full of hatred and anger aimed

To the creator that  restrained

And turned away from his lonely child

Who demanded bliss but made it wild

And the god-made man turned his back in fear

To his offspring coming near

Demanding just the pleasure, reject the pain

A fission which cannot keep you sane

Solitude and sorrow will be the only price

Heart and soul turning into ice

"All monsters are human" is what she said

As she watched him cry on his bed

When one not accepts what he's made

Having left no soul to trade

Heaven's shield and hellish blade

On earth them both will degrade.

Jus Primae Noctis

 The will come at night;

them, you know, the usurpers.

Don't fool yourself, they envy you;

and they would kill you if they could.

They are schemers, 

trying to control ''their'' world,

and unfortunately it involves you,

that's how you know you are not weak.

So the night fits them great, 

when flesh won't cooperate,

cold sweat, blurry vision,

a heart beating it's way out of the chest.

For as far as I am concerned,

the enemy is here,

and knowing yourself is pulling the trigger

while knowing the enemy is aiming to the right direction.

Fight on. Fear not.

"What a disgrace really, for a man to grow old, never finding out what he is capable of."

 The bus' night route will be the same no matter what, I guess. The driver always going as fast as hell to reach the terminal, a couple of wasted junkies at the back side sleeping and a bunch of losers like myself not having something better to do on a Saturday night. Being working too much in the last months has led me to spend too much time to myself. Realizing that I decided to go downtown hoping to find someone I know to spend some time with.

 First thing I do when I arrive is getting a cold beer from the liquer store and a pack of smokes. I take a look around and spot some guys I've been knowing since a long time. They' re really excited to see me since I've been away for some time. I don't care that much that they didn't contact me anyway.

 The conversations were about various staff, but mainly they were focusing on the ''system''. How it controls our lives, not being able to react, being enslaved over nothing. I remember them telling me how we have to work more than we should, that life should be easier.

 "Easy living isn't living" I said. "A sheep's life is easy. It is offered its food daily and doesn't care where it is or where it's going. All decisions are made by someone else. So someone deciding for your life doesn't qualify as living actually. A panther's life, on the other hand, is hard. The panther has to be faster and more agile than its prey or face starvation. The panther has to be stronger than an other male panther to be able to mate, and has to remain strong in order to not be killed by another rival. This is earning your life. Not easy, but more similar to free.''

 "Society doesn't always play fair", they said. "There are people that will gladly stab you on the back"

 "Vultures and hyaenas feast on rotten corpses, that's the best they can do. They will always live in fear of the one who doesn't count on the opponents disease to win.''

 It is almost 5 o'clock in the morning so I guess it is time to get back home. I thank everyone for the company and leave.

 The subway was crowded with people going to their jobs. Not willing. Not satisfied. Not free.

Departure

"Home is where heart is"

Goodmorning dear readers,

It's been almost a year since I made my first post. It's been real nice sharing my experiences, feelings, thoughts, fears and dreams through this blog but I have to stop due to study and labor obligations.

But the main reason is that I've been working on a novel in the last few months. It will be in three parts, hopefully the first will come on May 2013. I plan it to be on .pdf format, for free of course, but I will also print a few hard copies for anyone interested. I really hope you will enjoy reading it!

I want to thank you all for your support, feel free to join me on my facebook page or profil or on my twitter account where I will make some reposts of old staff, and inform you about my progress.

This last post will be a set of pictures concerning basic emotions.

Thanks again for everything, and in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!

Longing for the stars

"I can hear her. Her voice is faint, but it's still there. She's calling me."

 The city in the night always depresses me. Everything and everyone painted in black and white, and the moon upon us, pale and scarred, a daily reminder of our god's feelings for our failure.

 The other cars are passing us by and I can only wonder where are they all rushing to. My friend doesn't get carried away and drives the car nice and smoothly to reach our destination in comfort.

 This playlist we are listening to contains some heavy metal music, which is, if you are asking me, fitting perfect after a boring day to work to get back to your senses.

 When we stop at a traffic light he turns down the volume so we can speak.

 "Everytime I listen to these songs I feel really good for being raised like that. With these kind of morals I mean. It has nothing to do with all these hipster anti-establishment bullshit. I'm talking about values, like family, friendship, relationships, work ethics... Most of the people in our city are money-centric. If something can't be priced, then it has no value. I feel more angry than sorry towards them. It's something like that german philosopher said, they are allowing their own spiritual rape and they seem quite fine with it. And that's the reason I am angry, cause they rather do nothing than to attempt to change."

 The traffic light turns green and we start moving again. I look outside the window and I see all the shoping stores and their blinding lights, some bimbo girls wasted outside a club, a bunch of dudes trying to talk their way with some prostitudes to get them a better price.

 "Everyone fears death", I tell him, "and by buying things make us believe that we can also buy life. Immortality. You can't buy a way out no matter how much you postpone it. What if you are 60 and look like 40? Will it make you live longer? Will it get you closer to heaven? Will an expensive computer buy you knowledge? Or will a well paid job buy you dignity? I know that we have the potential to understand everything but we are too far from that, trapped in this concrete jungle, where noone seems to care if the hooker that he buys is just sex, not love. Noone cares. They don't seem to need emotions. Sadly..."

 We keep going silent, not turning the music up. I get out the pack of my smokes to light one. I offer him one also but he refuses.

 "Come on now, light up that smoke. Stop trying to live for ever."

 He laughs and takes it saying that I play dirty.

 When he dropped me at my home I had the strong feeling that I will spend all night tormenting my mind with these thoughts, but exhaustion got me first.

 In my dreams, at least, I can breath free air and see free skies, and everytime I wake up violently I only think of ways trying to make my dreams come true.

The desert of the real

"None is more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe that they are free."

 The day was exhausting. It's almost two o'clock in the morning on a hot summer night and I'm laying on my bed smoking the tenth malboro listening to some relaxing music. My stomach is digesting itself and the half bottle of whiskey I consumed in the last two hours, for I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I want to take a look outside the window to witness our maker's greatest creation, just to make me feel better.

 But the poison in mind is in effect. I can't see the world. All I see is a system. And this system is everywhere. It's my appartment, the clothes I wear, the music I like. It makes me obey when it has to stabilize and it makes me retaliate when it sees fit to change it's leader. It has spread nice and warm all over to hide the dominant truth.

 That we are slaves. That we were born in bondage. Born in a prison, where everything we see, smell or feel is part of the plan. A prison for the mind.

 Being part of a system means being under it's control. Salesmen, politicians, actors, doctors, me, you, we are all under control, manipulated by any means, it has been using and disgracing the most sacred things to make us set our minds to achieve their goal, to win the crown for them. And some of us are so hopelessly dependent on this system that we even fight to protect it.

 Having this thoughts I feel desperately weak, and no matter how much alcohol I consume, I cannot feel any stronger. The world seems darker and darker and my last thought as I fall asleep is if questioning this reality is also part of the plan.

Valkyrie

''Words scarcely inspire inspiration. Action always do''

 Today I took the last bus home from work as usual. The night was freaking hot, and with no air-conditioning I felt like I was melting in a plastic container. The bus is almost empty, there are two guys who I always meet during this route, one of them going home from work, and the older one does something downtown which I couldn't care less to know.

 But it's not just us. On the back there are three people, two guys and a girl. They are talking loud and strange. They can't keep their mouth in command, their bodies look weak and skinny. Their skin seems like full of scars, their clothes old, dirty and weared-off. And their eyes red within their black eye sockets, as if they're about to fall off from their skull.
 
 Through all of these years hanging out downtown I got used to the sight of wasted junkies. But that doesn't mean I feel nice having them around. Usually my guts turn inside out just in the thought of their rotten inner self and the diseases they might be carring.

 Once I tried to understand them you know. Being enslaved to something is the worst humiliation, even if it's not something like drugs, even if it's something like not being able to stay away from a computer for a day, or to surrender to your gluttonous desires all the time. Not beacause you have to, but because you need to.

 We already have the potential for greatness, to live our lives free from any addiction controlling our body, mind and life.We are not meant to live our lives in slumber..

Rat race

''You see doctor, God didn't kill that little girl. Fate didn't butcher her, and destiny didn't feed her to those dogs. If God saw what any of us did, he didn't seem to mind. God doesn't make the world this way. We do.''
 
 Today I called an old friend of mine and went outside to have a nice cup of coffee. Too much stress is bad for my health, and with the cloudy weather leaving it's place for the sun to fit in, it was a nice opportunity.

 Amongst the staff we discussed, was the situation in Syria. Having a few relatives there he knew first hand the situation. Even though I've seen some of the footage online, and I was already shocked of the atrocities taking place, I could never believe that they would take it to that level. Their army broke into houses and executed infants under the excuse that they were kin and offspring of the rebels.

 I could never imagine that even though we live in a rather advanced age, we would bring back biblical tyrants. Even in a war, their is morality, there should be. Instead our species is calling genocide 'collateral damage'.

 Killing in the name of idealism, you should be expecting to be killed in the name of the opposition. By oppressing the mass, you should be expecting a violent eruption. Control is an illusion, and the only way to escape this illusion, is lose it.

The messiah complex

 ''And of course our cause is righteous! This is a war, sister, and in a war, every side is fighting for a righteous cause..''

 I woke up in the middle of the night again having one of these hideous nightmares, where you realize you are asleep but no matter what you can't wake up. It's funny how when I am at this state I always dream of been hunted and tortured and all kind of soul consuming things instead of having nice wet dream. 

 Anyway, with my heart beating it's way out of my chest and my eyes still seeing monsters there is no way of getting back to sleep. So I get dressed grab my pack of smokes and a beer from the fridge and go down to the streets to have a nice late midnight walk.

 I drunk my beer on my way downtown, and bought another one from a liquer store since I got there. I find a nice bench and take a sit there. I take out a cigarrette. A tiny voice whispers in my head that it's bad for my health. I look around and take a deep breath. The tear gas the police sprayed all over the place to disperce the protestors make it's way deep into my lungs filling them with it's toxic. I light the cigarrette anyway.

 On the bench next to mine is a homeless man sleeping. He has a newspaper on him, as if a piece of paper can protect a man from the wind. Even from this distance I can read the huge headline letters: ''Leftists taking over Europe!''

 I don't know if I have to laugh or if I have to cry reading this. Four and a half billion years of evolution leading to a species so desparate to find a group to fit in that will gladly embrace the label of marxist or neonazi or capitalist and so on. So misarable we are that we are accepting a small number of people manipulating us using emotional blackmail,  that is targeting either on our need for equality, or on our national conciouness.

 People say that money talks. That is not true. Money dooes no talk. Money screams. And it screams with a voice so deafening and frightful that makes entire populations hide back into their houses, not doing anything about their dreams, brainwashing them that there is no other way. Without it we wouldn't work, we wouldn't eat, we wouldn't live.

 With one cigarrette left and my eyes tingling out of the venomous city air and of exhaustion I return to my appartment. My bed seems like sweet redemption as I fall onto it. I fall asleep hoping that the monsters will not come for me twice in the same night..

Fire and water

''We learned to cope.. We learned to recognize the danger of the endless envy of those who are not blessed.. We, and our wild obsession!!''

 Her kiss is like a breath of life bringing me back from the dead. Her wet lips are moving away from mine and get down on my neck. My senses are going crazy, both sharpened and dull. Her perfume is making it's way towards me. It's tangling me, claiming as it's own, taking me for prisoner.

 Her hands are holding the back of my head as she keeps pushing my lips against me. I unbutton my shirt slowly so she can watch. She can't resist putting her hand on my my chest, feeling my heartbeat setting it's own pace like a runaway train.

 I get closer and whisper all the staff I wanna do to her, how I am gonna do them, and how good it will feel. Her eyes sparkling, looking directly into mine, it's like I can read her mind through them, all the frames of the nasty and dirty game we are about to play.

 Our bodies are sweaty, out of breath and our minds out of this place, living the moment as if the world is about to end, and don't care about the consequences. Our voices speak now no tongue,  just moans and words that only the two of us can understand, composing a lovely song solely for our entairtainment..

 As I see her sleep and notice these perfect breasts of hers moving up and down as she breaths, bringing a huge smile to my face. The world will not end, but even if it does, I know I will go smiling just thinking of the life we shared, embracing the sun.